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There is an old saying, to never assign the goat as the gardener, since the goat is said to devour absolutely everything in a hurry.

Well, he was no goat and he certainly was no gardener either, but he was quite literally a wolf and he had been assigned a shepherd to a flock of sheep nonetheless.

The Lords, as they were colloquially known by all, had sought out him in particular and had told him that the flock he was to look after was a particularly stubborn one, that would need a firm hand to guide them, and a good lead so they would not stray too far.

They had given him free reign over those poor innocent sheep, to do with them as he saw fit.

There had been some debating among the sheep, when he took over, and there had been the one or another “hairy” situation after that, but all in all, they had accepted him as there new shepherd. It had not been that they had any choice whatsoever, but at least they had stopped rebelling. The prospect of standing ones ground against the apex predator of ones kin was enough of a deterrent for most.

And so he sat in the semi dark room and looked down upon his victim, laying bound and gagged on the sacrificial altar. Naked and unable to move or escape him, it was completely at his mercy. A smile formed on his face as he saw the pleading eyes of the young female, who shook her head and whimpered softly into the plastic of the ball-gag.

He felt so powerful at this moment, being in control, being able to determine if the ritual would be done or not made him the ultimate master over the life on his altar. Nothing could stop him now, only he himself, and he would not stop, never would he give up this power. He took in the sight and smelled her scent, that nice mixture of freshly washed wool, of cold sweat and fear. Musky, sharp and a little bit tangy. Only just could he stop himself from licking his lips and drool, as he watched her writhe on the altar.

Slowly he nodded, knowingly. It was much to ask from a poor little lamb, but it had to be done.

“Shhh, shh, shh… relax, child. We are doing this for the good of the flock…”

He said in a calm tone, like a father speaking his scared child, before he took the straight razor from the little table next to the altar. Carefully he reached out to her and caressed the cheek of the trembling sheep with his free paw, letting his claws comb through the short fur on the lamb’s face. Fear was written all over it as it tried to move its head away from his clawed paw, but it was unable to move far enough and so his paw always stayed in contact.

With the benevolent smile only a wolf could manage he continued to stroke her cheek and neck, feeling the muscles shake and tremble under his claws. The desire to give in to his instincts was strong. The age old urges to close his strong paw around her frail little neck and to sink his sharp teeth into her flesh burned hot behind his eyes, but he was strong of mind and will, he would manage not to give in to them.

At least, now yet.

Slowly he guided his digits down its throat to the leather collar with its bell. The shepherd could feel her windpipe and the air surging through it, could feel how she swallowed under his thumb. A glorious feeling, giving him even more power and enraptured him with the hunger for more. As his finger touched the small brass bell, it glinted in the low light and the trembling of its wearer made it ding. Letting go of the delicate throat of his victim, he carefully took the bell between his fingers, muting the bright ringing momentarily. Slowly he turned it this way and that way before letting go of it and laying his paw flat on the lambs chest.

“The lords demand a sacrifice, they must be appeased by an offering given from free will. But fear not, the others will join you shortly…”

He said in a solemn tone and looked over to the rest of the congregation, all sheep, all female, all bound, gagged and naked, looking at them in panic. The wolf bathed in their fear, it empowered him greatly, he could literally feel himself swell under their gaze. His tail began to wag slowly and he felt the all too familiar tingle in his loins. He breathed in their scent deeply, as the air in the room was thick with it and he could no longer help as his mouth began to water profusely. His lips pulled back revealing his fangs that gleamed in the semi darkness, only heightening their fear and anxiety even more. He licked his lips and swallowed what saliva had already gathered in his maw before he addressed the congregation before him.

“My children, all of you are gathered here to witness the sacrifice to the lords, as it is demanded by them in their infinite wisdom. Only if all of you are to witness the sacrifice sister Rose is willing to make for the congregation, this offering will be accepted by the lords. And you all know it is a necessary deed, because, only if the sacrifice is made and accepted by them, this gathering will be able to be sustained for another season…”

He spoke in a reverent voice and slowly raised his paws in an imploring fashion, while sister Rose, the bound and gagged sheep on the altar tried her best to protest and shook her head, but her pleas and her protest was muffled by the gag in her mouth. She squirmed and writhed on the altar, tried to loosen the broad leather strips that held her in place, but with her limbs stretched out and unable to move, it was of no use whatsoever, since the leather was much too strong for her. All she managed was to work her self tired and cramping her muscles.

The Wolfpriest sitting besides her did not pay her any heed and raised his paws higher, praising her and her courage, as the first of many to follow in her path. His arms held outstretched to the sides, one open, the other one holding the dreaded razor, he brought them over her body and as the blade came into view, the whimpering of the gathered crowd gained in volume and intensity.

He raised his gaze, looked up at the blade in his paw and turned it in the dim light, the flicks of light that reflected off the polished Damascus steel blade were like evil little stars dancing over the gathered crowd. As their eyes widened he felt his heartbeat rise and thrum stronger. Again he took a deep breath, reveling in their fear and an ice cold sensation rushed down his spine to the tip of his tail. He shivered as the feeling washed over him and his tail began to wag faster, the claws on his feet dug into the wooden floor and the need to kill got ever stronger.

At this moment he was all powerful, all mighty, none of the gathered sheep, all innocent lambs under the sky and his watchful eye, would ever be able to stand up to him; especially not when bound and gagged.

He lived for this power. The rush of the adrenaline, the fear in their eyes, the whimpering. Countless have come before them and countless would come after he was finished with this flock.

Slowly he opened his clenched jaws and licked his lips.

“Now…”

He began, his voice drunk with power, his eyes lid with righteous anger.

“... shall we begin?”

He asked, as if any of the sheep could do anything against it. He grasped the razor firmer and slowly brought it down towards sister Rose, who shook so hard, he was barely able to hold her down. Her little bell rung its little song, telling of the panic and fear of its wearer. He bent down and brought his muzzle close to her ear.

“Now, now… lamb of god, child of the light, hold still or the cut will not be clean.”

He whispered softly, his voice filled with love and devotion, but all the lamb on the altar could see was the glinting of the razor only inches before her eyes and a wolf growling into her ear. She tried once more to cry out in anguish, but once more the ball-gag swallowed her plea for mercy.

It was to no avail, she would be sacrificed for the greater good, for the wellbeing of the flock.

The Wolfpriest straightened up and with his paw on her delicate throat he brought the blade down. Sister Rose closed her eyes, bit down on the gag with all her might and waited for the blade’s kiss.

It did not happen quickly. In fact, it did not happen at all.

There was no kiss, no cut, no slash, no nothing. When she opened her eyes again, to the scraping sensation and the sound of the razor cutting through her furred coat, shaving her along her throat. She tried to look down, but the wolf held her head in place surprisingly gentle, not letting her move but an inch as he was using that sharp instrument on her delicate skin.

“All hail the lord, for the sacrifice will be done and the lord will be appeased.”

He spoke reverently, with a sheen of unwavering belief in his eyes, and made another pass with the blade over her neck, cutting off more of her pristine white coat. She struggled, but she was unable to move.

“No, no, child… hold still, as I do not want to hurt you…”

He whispered and some more wool fell to the side of the altar, as the wolf praised the lords again, while he raised the razor once more, letting the light reflect off its edge and into the crowd before him.

“See the blade, sent to thee by the lord to do his bidding and do the deed, as it needs to be done!”

He almost shouted to the gathered sheep in the room, his voice vibrating with righteous vigor. He brought his paw down again, readying himself once more, bringing his voice to a whispering level.

“By your sacrifice this flock will prosper…”

He said just loud enough for the others to hear and again he brought the blade down, shaving off yet more fluff from her and held the small cloud of white floof up in the light; then, with a crazed grin on his lips he let it fall to the side, where the rest of it already lay. Sister Rose saw the wool fall and huffed her denial, but the wolf still showed no mercy, and each time the blade ran through her coat, she trembled again, whimpering and straining against the leather and gag that held her. Tears ran from her eyes, rolling down her cheeks, soaking the short fur on her face with salt, as the wolf slowly fleeced her bit by bit, one cut at a time.

Slowly but surely more and more of her skin was revealed to the wolf, to her own surprise however, she was not so much embarrassed by him seeing her effectively naked, but her fellow sisters seeing her completely so exposed as well. All of her conscience was screaming at her to cover herself up, to hide from their watchful eyes, not to show herself to them, but the wolf was merciless. With a steady stream of sermon he shaved her clean, cutting off nearly all of her coat and letting the fur drop to the floor as if it was nothing.

For him it maybe was nothing at all, but for her it was everything. Her pristine coat, her white wool was a sign of her innocence, a beacon of her cleanliness, it was not only her coat and heat insulation, but also her cover to hide behind her shame before the others.

And HE was taking that away from her, just like that.

He had bound her, made it impossible for her to flee.

He had gagged her, made it impossible for her to contradict him, to protest or simply voice her dislike.

In a way, she wasn’t that much against the concept, giving up control to someone else was something, she reveled in, something she found invigorating, but under other circumstances, not like this. Not by him, not in front of everybody. This was something to be contained behind closed doors, to be cherished and celebrated between lovers, maybe master and slave, but certainly not by shepherd and flock and most definitely not…

*Oh my god...*

Sister Rose thought and turned her head towards the rest of the flock.

She would be naked in front of THEM, unable to hide, unable to just simply fit in, merge with the flock. They would see her, all of her, even her…

She did not dare to finish that thought as another small cloud of her floof fell to the ground and the muted gasps of her fellow sheep got louder with each passing cut. They would tease her endlessly for it, not for being naked, as they all would be at the end of the day, but for being the first, and for not having fought hard enough against him, for… would she dare thinking it?… for enjoying it.

By now, pretty much her entire upper body and her forelegs were already fleeced. Her breath came in uneven shallow puffs, as she tried her best to stay calm, as by now she knew, there was no escape and the wolf had no intent of showing any kind of mercy.

Slowly he moved lower over her chest and abdomen, and the scraping of his razor against her fur continued unabated.

With her naked skin revealed, she felt his hot breath on her bare skin and felt his touch, his mighty paw, surprisingly warm and soft, stroking over her naked hide; goosebumps were forming all over her body. She lifted her head to look down upon herself and at the wolf, expertly guiding the knife always talking, always reciting psalms about the lords demanding her sacrifice, and fulfilling her role in the flock, assuring her, that as soon as she was done, another sister would take her place, repeating the ritual anew.

All this was soothing in a way, but did not help the shame she felt for being the first one to be exposed to her fellow sheep, to be the first one to be stripped of her coat and dignity by a wolf nonetheless. She shivered and trembled as her mood sank lower and lower.

“Don’t worry my child. Your torment will soon be over. Your sins will be taken from you, so you can grow a new and white vest once more.”

He whispered and his clawed paw reached for her cheek. His touch was so incredibly gentle and his paw pads felt so soft on her aggravated skin. His own skin was so warm, almost hot against her shivering cold body. The room was well tempered, but her high stress and her fear and shame had confused her body so much that she was unable to maintain her body temperature all that well, and losing her thick coat did not help either. She was cold, freezing to the touch; and so she was unable to stop herself from shivering and trembling.

She wanted to lament, wanted to wail her agony, and curse him for doing this to her, in front of the other nevertheless. But the gag prevented any articulation apart from muffled moans and yells. The wolf tilted his head slightly and smiled softly.

“No, no, my child, be strong… don’t let the flock see your weakness, do not show them that you lose your faith. You know this must be done, for the good of the flock and for your own well-being.”

He continued, while caressing her cheek once more and wiping away a tear that rolled down her face. He slowly pulled his claw back and brought it to his mouth, carefully licking off the droplet, devouring the salty liquid. Sister Rose huffed as she watched him drink her tears and revel in it. At this moment she was almost sure he was a demon, sent here by the lords to test their faith and belief in them. Who else could he be? Binding and gagging all the sheep and strapping her to this altar, and he already agreed this to be a torment. She wanted to look further, but the moment his paw reached down to her body again and touched her udder, she was unable to hold her head up anymore. She let out a loud moan and her head dropped back onto the altar.

The wolf carefully moved the sensible organ out of the way, so he could continue to shave her, always looking out not to accidentally cut her. Mercilessly he went forth to shear her, and as the pile of wool around the altar grew, her coverage shrank. The once white lamb was now more or less completely pink, only covered by the shortest of fuzz, which was practically seethrough.

Soon only her tail and a thin strip of wool on her back was left, like a mohawk running the entire length of her body on which she lay on the altar. His paw stroked over her now naked, shivering flank and stopped at her rib cage. Gently he placed it so he was able to push her over, and expose that last little vestige of fur on her body, but by doing so, he would turn her to the rest of the flock, who were, up until now, only ever able to see her flank. They would be able to see everything… absolutely all of her.

Her eyes widened and as she felt him apply more pressure she renewed her struggle against her bonds. Her muffled “bahs” sounded out into the room and elicited “bahs” from her fellow sheep in return. Soon the room was filled with the cries of the captured and even though they were all gagged, the volume of their desperation was deafening.

Rose, incited by the cries of her kin used all of her strength and endurance in her fight for freedom, straining against the thick leather straps around her wrists and ankles. She shook her head and body in an attempt to get at least one limp free, so she would at least be able to defend herself.

Oh, she knew she had no chance against a wolf, not in a thousand years would a sheep, let alone a female, have any chance against an alpha predator like that wolf, currently sitting next to her, trying to expose her most intimate of places to the whole flock.

But her struggle was ill-fated and she couldn’t do anything but experience first hand how the wolf rolled her onto her side, the front totally exposed, as it was completely shorn and she couldn’t even pull her arms and legs before her, in an attempt to cover herself. Her cries took on a whole new tone, as she had to admit defeat and took the humiliation in front of her herd.

She saw how the eyes of her fellow sheep widened and she felt their gazes upon her skin, burning like a thousand suns. Watching, judging, evaluating her assets. What little self esteem was left in her quickly evaporated and she cried bitter tears, sobbing behind the plastic ball in her mouth.

Meanwhile the wolf continued to take away what fur still remained on her and with psalms that were heavy with meaning and significance let it fall to the ground, where it gathered with her already lost hair.

Finally, as the last little bit of her coat was shaved, he rolled her back and lifted the blade back over her body, letting the faint light from the old lamps glint off its edge and raised his voice:

“So see it is done. Bear witness to the innocence laying naked and exposed on the altar of your temple. For I have taken away her sins and have cast them onto the floor, so the lamb can live, and with innocence renewed, can grow a white vest once more. I shall release it into thy world, where it shall live among its kin, until the time of rapture is upon us once more.”

With those words he freed her first from the bonds on her feet and then from the straps holding her arms outstretched. Before he could remove the gag, she already had her hands on the clasp holding the straps together that held the ball in her mouth. Opening it, she spat the plastic gag against his chest and sat up.

“You foul beast!”

She screamed from the top of her lungs.

“You insane, dirty bastard!”

She continued and the heat rose into her cheek, as she screamed her rage against the wolf.

“You and your sick games! Do you even have a…”

She looked down along his chest, seeing what was hidden from the prying eyes of the congregation, shielded by the altar and cast in deep shadows from her now truly naked form.

“... I knew it! Sick freak! Do you even know how fucking cold it still is at night? Fleecing us this early should be a crime!”

She yelled and took the shackles from her wrist and threw them at him. The wolf just sat there, grinning smugly at her. He had had his fun with her, and she knew, she could do nothing against it, as he had his orders, and was just doing his job.

“If you would at least not always play this fucking charade. Look at me! Talk to me! Answer me! You sick fuck of a wolf!”

She wanted to pull her hair, but there was nothing left, not even a little bit. As per usual, he had completely shorn her.

“I do look at you, you are beautiful. Like a newt.”

He said in a totally calm tone, smiling at her, which only made her even more mad.

“I will… I could… I should… raaaaaargh…”

The bitchslap rang out loud in the room, but when the wolf turned his head back at her, that grin of his just got bigger, showing her his fangs.

“Oh come on, I know this is a secret kink of yours… you actually wish for me to eat you…”

He said in a complacent manner and Rose already raised her hand to slap him again, but she had to admit, he was not entirely wrong with that statement, but she could never admit that in front of everyone. Behind her the bahs of her flock became louder and louder, as more sheep voiced their complaints behind gagged muzzles.

He took the second hit just as well and turned the other cheek. They both knew that shearing was a necessity, and the money from the wool would finance the flock for more or less the whole season. It had been his idea to spice things up a little each season, and every time he would think about something new.

The first time around, they had made a fashion show and he had shaven them nice little bikinis into their coats and had played the narrator for their presentation, before shearing them completely in the end. The second time, they had him cut their coat short and do some hairstyles before he had cut even those down.

The flock had agreed to these little games, as they had made the task of getting their wool taken from them at least somewhat bearable. Tradition forbid that any sheep would fleece another, so they had always relied on some outsider to do it for them. In the past many had come, many had tried, and just as many had failed, since they were a rebellious flock. There was some Capricorn in them, and it showed. He was the first, who had managed to fleece them all, one after the next, without being rammed into the ground by one or even more of them. It had secured him some respect from the sheep, and with this respect came the privilege to suggest them some little ideas to make it more “fun”.

But over time, his ideas had become more and more disturbing, until this time he had come up with this sick idea, and he had not spoken with them about it beforehand.

Normally he used an electric clipper to fleece them as it was faster and the possibility of cutting them with it was practically nonexistent. This time however, he had kidnapped one sheep at a time, had bound, gagged and blindfolded them and had sat them in this barn to “wait” for their turn. only some had protested, as he had promised, that everything would be fine… just fine.

“We will play a little game…”

He had whispered in that big bad wolf voice of his that he loved to use so much. And Rose had to admit that every time he whispered to her in that voice, it drove ice cold shivers up her spine and made her shiver.

“... I'm gonna sacrifice you on the altar…”

The wolf had continued, his voice hoarse and his breath hot in her ear, while his claw ran up her stomach to her lower ribs. She had whimpered and squirmed under his hands, as her insides went all tingly, and as she felt his claws on her throat, she had gasped at the implication.

Her mind had gone all blank for a moment and since he had followed up this announcement with his trademark dark chuckle and then continued to strap her to the makeshift altar in the barn, and when he removed the blindfold, she really felt like he would sacrifice her to the dark lords, as he had called them. When she had looked around, she had seen all the others, bound and gagged, just like she had been. He himself slowly wandered through their ranks, whispering dark chants, as he removed the blindfolds from their eyes. One by one, her sisters, her flock, blinked and looked around. The realization sank in slowly, but one after the next gasped as they saw her. Strapped to the altar, naked except for the leather collar they all wore. Non of them looked at the wolf, himself naked, walking slowly through their rows, visually aroused.

After giving back sight to the last of the congregation, he returned to the altar, reciting ancient psalms and taking his place behind the table on which Sister Rose laid and squirmed. She had struggled and strained against the binds, had cursed and screamed, well, as good as she had been able to at least. As it had turned out she had been too weak to free herself and had been at his mercy the whole time.

He had shaven her painfully slow, exposing her not only to the elements but also to the flock, watching them with ever growing interest. He had enjoyed the process, she had clearly seen it in his eyes, had heard it in his voice and had felt it in his touches. It had been a delight for him to be in complete control over her, knowing she was in no way capable of presenting any resistance.

And deep down inside, she had to admit, she had enjoyed it as well, being completely out of control, being at the mercy of the big, bad wolf, the predator, the original enemy, had been an exhilarating feeling. Hadn’t it been for the rest of the flock seeing them, she would have given in to his play all the way, but in the end it had been too embarrassing for her to be shown off like that in front of the rest of the flock.

She trembled with anger, shame and embarrassment as she crossed her arms before her body, trying to cover as much of it as possible, before taking one last breath while staring in his eyes, righteous fury burning in hers.

“I despise you, despise you from the bottom of my heart! You vile creature!”

She spat at him before scooting of the altar and stomping away towards the door of the barn, while the wolf just sat there grinning, fighting his inner turmoil in an attempt to get his raging boner under control. He did not look after Rose, as she kicked open the door strut out into the morning sun just to slam it back shut again. As murky darkness returned to the barn and the cries of the other sheep slowly calmed down again, he turned to them with an outright murderous grin.

He looked into the eyes of the other nineteen sheep still bound and gagged before the altar, their outrage openly visible on their faces and a deep chuckle sounded from his throat.

“He, he, he, he… so, who will be the next one…”

He said and an eerie silence fell upon his flock, as they looked at each other, shaking their heads. The wolf raised his finger and pointed at the sheep.

"Eeny, miny, moe..."

Concept and Idea by

El Poyo Diabolo

Characters by

El Poyo Diabolo

Written by

El Poyo Diabolo

Edited by

El Poyo Diabolo

Published by

El Poyo Diabolo